Watching The Moon
by One-Red-Soul
Summary: The pale moon floats over Japan, looking down upon three travelers. Are they looking at the same moon, thinking of each other? One shot; might become more.


The summer sun had set for the last time, giving way to the first moon of autumn and of harvest. It was cold that night, colder than it had been for almost an entire year. The wind was anything but gentle, suggesting an incoming storm despite the ridiculously clear skies overhead.

It was a fat moon that hung in the sky, swollen and pale. The sky holding it in place was the deepest dark anyone had ever seen, darker than the very lowest pit of the oceans. Stars scattered across the abyss, shimmering in secrets no one could ever understand.

Mugen looked up at the sky, grunted, and flicked away the crusted piece of snot he had just managed to fish out of his nose.

_Clop clop clop_. The townsfolk heard the man before they saw him, the thick wood of his _geta_ hitting the earth with every step. Not that many of them cared enough to look at the man even once- this was a sea port town, and people from all over came here looking for passage. All types of odd men and women strolled the streets, especially at this hour.

It had been weeks since he had allowed himself to relax in a town- mostly, he had been sleeping out in the woods, the safety of a tree at his back and an inch covering of leaves and twigs for a blanket. There was a bit of mud caked in his hair, under his nails, on his skin, but if he noticed it did not bother him. Still, it had been too long since he had allowed himself to soak in a bath and had a proper meal in his stomach.

In the center of town was a small tea house that served weak _ramen_ and equally weak _sake_, but it was all he had money for. If things got worse down the road, the man knew that the dine'n'dash option was always open, though he would have to make sure no one with a baseball would be around. Mugen entered the tiny shop, took a seat, and opened the menu offered him.

This was not how she thought it would be on her own. Fuu took long breaths, taking shelter quickly behind a building. The thugs that had been chasing after her continued on in a straight line. Only then did the young woman allow herself to peak out from her hiding spot.

"There she is!"

"Grab her!"

"Oh crap," Fuu hissed, then took off again. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She knew it was foolish to remain in Japan, especially now. The government had been after her before for simply being her father's daughter. Now, they were after her for having survived the assassin sent to kill her. She knew she should have come up with some sort of disguise until the heat had died down, but...

With a gasp, the young woman fell forward. The strap on her sandal had snapped again, tripping her. Her assailants took the falter as a gift, and quickly descended upon her. There was steel and sick grins; shouts and cries. Gritting her teeth, Fuu lashed out however she could. Her foot connected with someone's jaw, her fist with someone else's private parts.

As soon as there was an opening, she scrambled out of the pile. Blood was flowing from her cheek and arm, but she had no time to think about that. _Escape, escape, escape._ Luckily, she had created just enough time for herself to flee into a tiny tea house in the center of town.

"_Now,"_ she thought as she collected her breath, _"I just need to hide out until tomorrow. Then I can get on a ship and get the hell out of here."_ Fuu stepped further into the restaurant, took a seat, and ordered a drink.

The night pressed in on the tiny dirt path that lead into town. The thick tree cover above blocked out all hope of light from the moon or stars- only a small paper lantern offered any with which to see. With one hand on the pole of the light, and the other on the hilt of his katana, Jin moved silently toward the end of the path.

Small port towns such as this were perfect places from which to escape the country. Ship fare was relatively cheap, and few questions would be asked. At least, that is was the samurai hoped as he took a few cautious steps forward, into the town.

Lowly, like an animal just rising from a long winter's nap, his stomach growled. Frowning, the man continued forward. He had enough coin to get a small dinner tonight, and then enough for the passage on one of the ships in the morning. He found a small tea house in the center of town that seemed cheap enough.

He entered silently, was seated, and ordered. While he waited, sipping lightly at his cup of tea, his brown eyes cast a glance out the window. The night sky stared back at him. Briefly, he wondered if the others...

Jin shook the thought from his mind. Mugen had probably gone back to the Ryukyu islands- the man had spoken of it before they had parted, stated he missed the hell-hole he had called home. Fuu had (hopefully) found some place safe to hide as well.

Slowly, the man's brown orbs returned to watching the swollen moon as it drifted through the night sky on its voyage toward morning. Finally, he allowed the thought to enter his mind- somewhere, out there, perhaps in a warm tea house such as this, Mugen and Fuu were looking up at the same moon, thinking about him, about each other.

And it was true.


End file.
